Obsession
by Calen Narwain
Summary: There was an energy in the air that was undeniably intimate. An intense obsession. The fervor of ultimate attraction. Ventress and ObiWan duke it out on OhmaD'un. Set during the Clone Wars. Rated for mild innuendo.


**Author's Note:** Based loosely upon the Obi-Wan/Ventress battle seen in _Star Wars: Republic_ "The New Face of War". If you haven't read it, don't worry, you'll still enjoy the story, although I do warn against minor spoilers as to the outcome of the battle. But I'm sure you can guess outright, based on what you know about the Clone Wars. Enjoy!

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If they had met somewhere else, in some other galaxy, they might have been lovers. Even as their lightsabers crossed and criss-crossed, sky blue over blood red, there was an energy in the air that was undeniably intimate. An intense obsession. The fervor of ultimate attraction. 

An easy sidestep and Asajj Ventress avoids injury. Body curved in a graceful imitation of a Twi'lek dancer, she somersaults over Obi-Wan's head, landing catlike on the soft ground at his back. But he is right behind her. A quick turn and their lightsabers are matched again, the scent of ozone sharp in the moist air of Ohma-D'un.

He keeps her pace easily. _Almost too easily_, she thinks ruefully. The smallest, most secret part of her realizes she might be outmatched. His skill is remarkable, though she vaguely resents herself for thinking so. He shows no signs of fatigue, save for the almost imperceptible tightening of his hands on his saber's hilt.

At times she had wondered what those hands might feel like, soft yet hard at the same time, calluses brushing against the curves of her skin. In the darkness it was his face that assaulted her dreams, his body that awakened the inklings of feeling she'd buried beneath her anger. She screams in rage, cursing her weakness, hating him more every moment—a man reduced to servitude by his false republic, the Republic that has taken everything away from her.

She is only dimly aware that she is bleeding, that he has cut her. The pain is nothing to the explosion of emotions in her mind. Like the tendrils of some deep sea creature, they drag her into their depths, hindering her, blinding her, choking her. She thrusts everything aside and summons all her strength, bringing the full heel of her power down in one fell swoop.

And he dodges it easily. There's a smile playing across his lips, a glittering in his bright eyes, and she narrows her own in wrath. _Enjoying this, are you?_ She would teach him otherwise. She would teach all the arrogant Jedi. One thrust and their bodies are almost chest to chest, the glowing cross of blue and red nestled between them.

His face is almost impossibly close to hers. She could lean forward and kiss him, bite his lower lip, nip his neck with the blunt edges of her teeth. She could draw _his _blood, feel his pulse quicken beneath her hand and his iron clad resolve melt beneath her own. Make him writhe with the desire she both cursed and yearned for. Make him her servant. Make him pay. He pushes away from her, and a shadow crosses his face. Obi-Wan is clearly unsettled, but he recovers quickly, bounding back at her with renewed zeal.

She swipes at him and sees the blossoming of red at his side stain his tunic. He hardly notices. Victory is nearly within Ventress's grasp, but her thirst for it makes her careless. Suddenly she is on the ground, Obi-Wan holding down her limbs with his own, his face a mask of pity. She resents him for it and spats at him. He doesn't even flinch.

Ventress can sense the Force when he summons it to knock her lightsaber away, but she is helpless to stop it. Vaguely, she wonders when she lost the other, but then those blue eyes gaze into her own and her mind goes blank. Everything about him intoxicates her, from the beads of sweat at his temples to the warmth of his breath on her face. If she didn't hate him so, she might think him handsome. She turns her face away, the cold mud a better alternative to those piercing eyes.

A distant explosion brings her back to the present. Durge is on his way to retrieve her. It's been seconds and not hours. She was beginning to think she'd lain here for days.

Before she can wrestle away, she feels the warmth of his fingers against her skin. Electric contact that sends a jolt of longing down to her very toes. She closes her eyes for a moment, relishing in the sensation. His fingers trace the soft curve of her neck, just below the ear, soft and hard, just as she'd imagined. The realization is enough to reignite her anger. She summons her strength and pushes him bodily from her, calling her lightsaber back to her waiting hand.

He's looking through her, passed her barriers and into her soul, his own lightsaber held aloft in the gloom. She growls. He smiles. But their sabers don't meet again.

Ventress is relieved when Durge shows up, and even more so once she is back with Dooku, protected and hidden in the darkest reaches of Coruscant.

But in the night there is no protection from her dreams, and too often does she jolt awake, drenched in sweat, the line Obi-Wan traced upon her neck searing like a lightsaber burn.

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Any and all reviews welcome! Thanks for reading. 

- Calen


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